


oh, sister (i know what you want me to do)

by problematic_pleasures



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Brother/Sister Incest, Coming In Pants, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Established Relationship, F/M, Incest, M/M, Post canon, References to Other Sex Acts, Smoking, Vaginal Sex, jerking off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27572203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematic_pleasures/pseuds/problematic_pleasures
Summary: A fun night and a throwaway detail from Alexis have a lasting effect on Patrick.
Relationships: Alexis Rose/David Rose, Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 11
Kudos: 49





	oh, sister (i know what you want me to do)

**Author's Note:**

> this has been sitting in my drafts for ages and I finally decided to just get around to post it. big thanks to my beta even tho they've never watched the show! 
> 
> please be sure to check the tags. if this isn't you're cup of tea, please utilize the back button. if this _is_ your cup of tea, enjoy!!

They’re all drunk and a little bit high when it comes up. It’s a rare night where Alexis surprised David and Patrick with a visit; it’s a not-so-rare night where Stevie dropped by with a bottle of wine and a baggie of joints. Patrick isn’t even sure who brought up the whole spin-the-bottle mess from his ill-fated housewarming party years ago. All he knows is that someone does bring it up, and then Stevie says, “I can’t kiss David anymore, it’d be like kissing my brother,” and then Alexis cackles and says, “ _Ugh_ , been there, done that.” And then the night moves on.

But Patrick doesn’t. Lying in bed next to David that night—keenly aware of Alexis in the guest room just down the hall, Stevie taking the couch downstairs—the words kick around his brain like the energizer bunny wired on, on some kind of drug. Some kind of drug that David and Alexis had probably tried in their former life. Is that why they kissed? Because they were drunk, or high, or both?

Or had they kissed because they were bored? Lonely? Was it _just_ kissing? 

Patrick abruptly aches to know and he rolls away from David, as if that quells the shame burning low in his gut. He can feel his own face burning, and the arousal simmering in his veins cuts through the haze of alcohol weighing down his thoughts. David smoked almost an entire joint on his own over the course of the evening, so Patrick knows he’s out like a light. He still feels embarrassed to palm his dick over his pajama pants. He’s not entirely sure if it’s because his husband is lying beside him, or if it’s because of the images flickering behind his eyelids as Patrick’s eyes flutter shut. 

He bites his bottom lip hard enough to hurt and lets his mind drift. 

Alexis is gorgeous, that’s obvious enough for anyone to see. But Patrick’s had the added pleasure of watching her grow over the years, just like he’s watched David grow. It makes her even more beautiful, just as it does for David. Patrick may not find himself romantically attracted to women, but that doesn’t mean he can’t recognize a woman’s beauty. Including Alexis’. 

The vision comes to him accidentally, almost. It crashes into his thoughts when he least expects it, even though it’s the very idea that set him down this path. It’s not quite a clear image, blurry around the edges, his thoughts still clumsy from booze.

But he knows what he’s seeing, what he’s _imagining_ : Alexis leaning across their little half-circle, half-square in the living room. Alexis cupping David’s cheek, thumbing over his stubble slightly before tilting her head _just so_ and kissing him. David kisses her back, one hand on her wrist and the other finding her waist slowly, surely. She’s in the too-big t-shirt and too-short pajama shorts from earlier, and David’s fingers find the skin in between the hems. 

Patrick lets out a ragged gasp as the Alexis in his imagination clambers into David’s lap. Her arms wind around his shoulders and his hands find her ass and they kiss, noisily but smoothly. She grinds in his lap slowly and sensually and David tugs her closer. It’s intimate, it’s sweet, it’s filthy as his fingertips inch up the legs of her shorts. Alexis’ hands roam down David’s back and they’re trading moans back and forth. They move in sync, in tandem, coordinated in a way that only siblings can be. 

He comes abruptly, so suddenly he can’t even try to catch it all in his palm. His come splatters against his pajamas and drips down his fingers. Patrick pants as his cock pulses in his grip before starting to soften. 

Patrick turns and presses his face against his pillow, willing the cool fabric to chill his shameful blush. It doesn’t work, and eventually he has to extract his sticky hand from his pants and try to maneuver his way out of bed without getting come on the sheets. He manages to stumble into their attached bathroom and washes his hand first, then sheds his pajama pants second.

Patrick is about to make a hasty retreat back into his bedroom—he’ll grab fresh pants, then crawl into bed and act like nothing happened—when he catches his own reflection in the mirror. He’s still flushed red, from his hairline down to a mottled pattern across his bare chest. Patrick sucks in a shaky breath and forces himself to meet his own gaze. 

“This is fine,” he half-whispers. “It’s fine, you’re drunk, and probably second-hand high. That’s all.” He nods at himself and then finally turns away from the mirror. He kills the light and follows his original plan of getting new pants and going back to bed. 

When he crawls under the covers, David rolls and throws an arm over Patrick’s waist, as natural as anything. Patrick drops a hand to link fingers with David, and ignores the guilt pounding in his head.

* * *

Patrick wakes up with the kind of clear conscious you only get from falling asleep drunk, as if any questionable choices you made didn't happen. He wakes up feeling refreshed and ready to face the day, surprised by the fact that David is already awake and in the bathroom. Patrick takes his time waking up, allowing himself a few minutes to stretch a couple times. He finally forces himself out of bed and into the bathroom.

It’s as he’s reaching for his toothbrush that David speaks. 

“So,” David says as he works moisturizer into his cheeks, “you changed your pants.”

Patrick’s heart skips a beat and suddenly the thoughts he’d so easily repressed come flooding back to him. He fumbles and drops his toothbrush in the sink, then drops the toothpaste too. He wills his hands not to shake as he lifts them both again. 

“Uh, yeah,” he says as he squirts out a dollop of toothpaste. He wets the bristles and shrugs as he starts to brush. He tries to say, “no big deal,” and David understands him but clearly doesn’t believe him if the way his eyebrows arch is to be believed.

But David doesn’t press. He carries on with his skin routine, makes the same fondly exasperated face at Patrick’s own lacking routine—brush teeth, wash face, comb hair—and doesn’t heckle Patrick about his pants anymore. Patrick’s on edge as they both get dressed and ready for the day. He jumps when Alexis knocks on their bedroom door to ask if they’ve got almond milk hiding somewhere.

Before they leave their bedroom, David shoots Patrick one last curious look, but that’s all. They go down the stairs in a line and enter the kitchen to see Alexis and Stevie making themselves at home. Stevie looking casual and comfortable in their kitchen isn’t really anything new; even with her off at meetings for new branches of Rosebud Motels, she’s still here more often than not. Alexis, however, is a new sight. She moves around their kitchen with ease. She managed to find the almond milk, and is diligently making herself a bowl of cereal.

Patrick lets out a content sigh—this is nice, it’s nice to see their kitchen full and vibrant in the morning, even if they’re probably all a little bit hungover. He’s in the clear, his thoughts from last night were definitely just a blip, and David isn’t going to pester him about it.

Or so he thinks, until David says, “I’m doing laundry today. Alexis, did you need me to wash anything before you take off?”

Patrick doesn’t hear the ensuing conversation, something about dry clean only and only here for a day and whatever else. His blood is rushing in his ears and honestly, it feels ridiculous. David’s never judged him for anything, he _probably_ wouldn’t judge him for this. Probably. Maybe. David’s lived a long and storied life; Patrick fantasizing about siblings making out probably doesn’t crack the top ten weirdest things people have fantasized about.

That doesn’t stop Patrick from feeling a little panicky. It’s one thing if he were imagining siblings in the abstract, or even watching some corny “sibling” porn. It feels like a whole other thing to specifically imagine David and Alexis together and yet...Patrick’s brain has latched onto the image, won’t let go, and his dick is twitching in his jeans again. 

“Patrick?” David’s voice breaks through his thoughts. “You okay?” David moves with concern emanating from every fiber of his being. He leaves his coffee on the counter and comes to Patrick standing at the edge of the kitchen. His rings are cool where they press against Patrick’s cheek and the touch is grounding, calming. 

Patrick inhales deeply and nods. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just, uh.” He gestures to his head and gives David a sheepish grin. “It’s fine, I’m fine.” He lays his hands over David’s and leans up for a kiss which David happily gives. “You want some pancakes?”

“I do,” Stevie says with a grin from behind David.

Patrick snorts. His heart is still racing and his head is a flurry of panicked thoughts, but he can manage making some pancakes. He kisses David again before sliding around him and gathering everything he needs. By the time he finishes—Stevie takes three pancakes, David takes five, and Alexis takes one even though she said she didn’t want any—Patrick feels less panicked. As he settles in with his three pancakes, Stevie is making noise about leaving and Alexis is on the phone with someone from Interflix.

It would all be fine and great except David keeps shooting him curious looks over their kitchen island. Patrick gives him his best grin and counts it as a win when David ducks his face to hide his own smile. 

* * *

Patrick should have known better than to think it would last, though. Stevie leaves not long after breakfast, and Alexis gets an Uber to take her to the airport sometime just after lunch. Everything for the rest of the day is normal. He and David don’t work in the shop today, so they spend their time puttering around the house. Patrick spends part of the day going over their budget just to make sure everything is as it should be. David does in fact do laundry and doesn’t mention the suspiciously stained blue pajama pants. They make dinner together, meaning Patrick cooks and David drinks half a bottle of wine while watching him. They eat dinner in the living room, with David’s feet in Patrick’s lap and the latest Jays game from their DVR playing. 

Everything is normal until they’re in the bathroom doing their nightly routines. It’s almost a perfect mirror of that morning: David doing his skin routine, Patrick brushing his teeth, things both awkward and not. 

“So,” David starts off, same as he had this morning, “Do we need to have a talk about something? Or?” He draws out the ‘or’ long and pitchy, not quite an accusation but close. He doesn’t sound upset, aside from his usual undercurrent of worry.

Patrick sighs and spits in the sink. He takes his time rinsing his mouth, first with water then mouthwash. When he stands up straight and wipes his mouth clean, David is staring at him expectantly. He’s impressed that his husband hasn’t spiraled further; just another sign of the growth David’s gone through over the years. 

“It’s not anything bad,” Patrick says and David’s whole body relaxes like a weight’s been lifted off his shoulders.

“Well thank god for that,” David says, snippy and sarcastic. “ _What_ is up with you today?” David asks. He’s not unkind about it, but Patrick understands the clipped tone. David hasn’t even reached for his last night mask and is instead reaching for Patrick, hands finding his hips.

Patrick blinks and the vision of David’s hands on Alexis’ hips passes through his mind. He swallows. “Uh,” he says.

David nods. “Gotta give me a _little_ more than that.” 

Patrick lets out a breathy laugh. “Can we, can we sit down?” He moves toward the door and David goes with him. Never once does David let go of his hips, and they clamber on the bed with David up against the headboard and Patrick against his chest. It helps to not have to look at David as he prepares himself to speak. 

David’s hands roam over Patrick’s body in a way that’s equal parts greedy and soothing. Patrick lets himself sink into it. He tips his head back against David’s shoulder and stares at the ceiling. 

“So, I got off last night,” Patrick finally manages to say. David simply hums. “You were asleep. It was, uh, because of something Alexis said at the party last night.”

David ‘ah’s softly. “Okay,” he says, a little drawling, a little unsure. Patrick knows David is probably running through a mental catalogue of everything Alexis said. 

“I just couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I was drunk, and hard. And I got off,” he shivers as he inhales, “and I came so fast, David, I don’t even know why. No, I do know, but, but I shouldn’t. It’s—it’s fucked up.” Patrick finally tilts his head and looks at his husband, well aware that his face is blotchy red and his eyes are wide and scared.

David isn’t looking at him, though. He’s looking vaguely across their bedroom, chewing his lower lip. Patrick knows David’s figured it out before he speaks. Eventually, he says, “I mean, Alexis and I _have_ kissed. It’s not _that_ fucked up if…” David’s gaze flicks to him. “If you thought about it.”

A whimper catches in Patrick’s throat. “Yeah?” He manages to croak. 

David nods. He nods in that rapid way that speaks to his own anxiety and Patrick immediately starts to shift. He gets up on his knees and twists to face David.

“I’m sorry,” Patrick starts, but then David starts to shake his head.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” David says. He says it sharply, with such conviction that Patrick’s mouth snaps shut. “You really, really don’t.”

Patrick’s mouth goes dry. “I don’t?” He asks softly.

David keeps shaking his head. When he finally stops, he says, “Alexis and I have done a lot more than kiss, too.”

“Oh.” A shiver runs down Patrick’s spine. 

“Uh huh, yep, so.” David’s nodding again. His own cheeks are getting rosy and Patrick’s heart beats a little easier. “So yeah,” he says, brightly. “No guilt needed, here.”

“I see,” Patrick says. He’s hard in his pajamas and it’s obvious with how he’s sitting. His dick is basically pointing at David like a compass pointing north. Patrick licks his lips. “Would you...Would you tell me about it?”

David’s the one to shudder this time. His eyes flutter a bit and his mouth drops open. There’s a beat where Patrick thinks he’s going to say no, and Patrick braces himself for it. He doesn’t _need_ to know—his own imagination can run rampant with the scant details he already has. But he’d like to know, would like to hear it from David, if he wants to share.

Which he does. “Okay,” David says. “Uhm, it would be, maybe, _easier_ , if I don’t, if we.” He’s starting and stopping and Patrick picks up the things he’s not saying.

Patrick kicks at the blankets until they’re bunched up at the end of the bed, then shifts to lay on his side. David cuddles up behind him with one hand gently on Patrick’s hip. It’s good, warm and intimate, and when David speaks his breath ruffles Patrick’s hair. 

“So, the first time,” David starts, taking a deep breath, “was a necessity.”

A surprised laugh bursts from Patrick before he can help it. David retaliates by pinching his side but presses his grin against Patrick’s hair. 

“A necessity?” Patrick asks.

“Mm, yep. Alexis had accidentally promised her hand in marriage to a _different_ sultan who would only be assuaged if she already _had_ a husband, because like, tradition or whatever. I’m still not totally clear on the details.”

“Okay,” Patrick nods along. “So I’m assuming you had to pretend to be her husband?”

“I did,” David says, sounding so put upon even what Patrick assumes is decades after the fact. “The sultan demanded to see our certificate and wedding photos, he was so _nosy_. I had to pay someone way too much to crop our parents out of some pictures to make them look more wedding-y. And I had to pay someone to forge a wedding certificate, and then I had to go pick her up in person because the sultan demanded to meet me.”

“And, naturally, he wanted proof of your guys’ love.” 

David laughs, warm and quiet. “Got it in one. So we didn’t really have any other choice but to go with it.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this wasn’t true.” 

“Good thing you know better, then.” David clears his throat and continues. “So, yeah. We kissed, nothing scandalous, really. Just, like, a little peck on the lips.”

“That was good enough for the sultan?”

David hums. “I think he was just so heartbroken about losing Alexis, he couldn’t bear the sight of us any longer. We flew home twenty minutes later and didn’t talk about it for a couple years.”

Patrick nods. He doesn’t prod, doesn’t want to ask for more than David is willing to give. Eventually, David starts to speak again. 

“The second time was, ah... _less_ of a necessity.” David’s hand tightens momentarily on Patrick’s hip and the touch has Patrick’s dick twitching, just as much as the promise in his words. “It was Adam Sandler’s New Year’s party.”

Patrick furrows his brow. “You went to a New Year’s party thrown by Adam Sandler?”

“Alexis and I would go _anywhere_ if we got invited, and if there was the promise of free booze and other...substances.” David’s voice dips lower, quietly. The way he speaks when he’s a little ashamed of who he used to be.

“Was it fun, at least?” Patrick asks. 

David shrugs. “It was fine. We didn’t really know him that well so we weren’t like, super close with anyone there. Which is probably why we stuck together for once, instead of us desperately trying to get away from each other. It was also pretty soon after one of her other kidnappings, so I was feeling a little, uh. Protective. Of Alexis.”

“Yeah, of course.” Patrick knows the feeling. He’s felt protective over her too, more than once. He can only imagine how it was when they were younger, dumber, richer.

“So, yeah, we were basically glued together the whole night. She kept getting free drinks and she’d give every other one to me and there were just _so_ many vodka-crans. I lost count somewhere around fifteen.”

Patrick doesn’t ask—fifteen _each_? His stomach churns at the thought—and David keeps talking.

“Midnight hit and Alexis just, just looked up at me and tilted her head back and I kissed her. Because it was midnight, on New Year’s, and we both deserved that, you know?”

“Yeah,” Patrick replies, breathy. He can feel David’s cock getting hard against his back, and it’s like a feedback loop hooked up to his own dick. “Was it, uh. Was it just kissing that night?”

“No,” David says, just above a whisper. “We kissed and, ah, since no one really knew us there, we just...kept kissing. We found a bedroom, eventually? I still don’t totally know whose it was, but it was dark and empty and we found the bed and just laid there making out for what felt like _hours_.”

“Were you hard?” 

David swallows loudly. “I was. And I could tell Alexis was, uhm, wet. But we didn’t touch each other that night. She climbed into my lap and we got off like a couple of teenagers and we came _right_ before someone walked in on us, because the party was clearing out.”

It’s not quite the filthy, salacious story Patrick was expecting, but his dick is still hard. He’s struggling not to touch himself; he’s scared he’ll come too soon, as in the minute he gets a hand on himself. 

“Then,” David continues, “there was that time I thought Alexis was dead. I mean, that happened _a lot_ , but this was like, the second time maybe? And I wasn’t used to thinking “oh hey my sister might be dead,” so when we finally got her home, since we had the place to ourselves, we…”

There’s a longer beat this time and Patrick manages to speak even though he feels a little light-headed. “You can tell me, David. You know I won’t judge you.”

“Okay, but it’s one thing to fantasize and it’s different to know what _actually_ happened, and what actually happened is wrong and sick and shouldn’t have happened but it did. It kept happening, for a long time.”

“And I want to hear about it all,” Patrick insists, “if you want to tell me.” 

David kisses the back of his neck and lets out a shaky breath. “The night I got Alexis home, she kept trying to play it off, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like she hadn’t gone off the radar for two whole days, after sending one text that just said _help_. So we were fighting, naturally. She kept saying how it wasn’t a big deal, she was fine, and I kept saying that it _was_ a big deal.

“I still don’t really know how it happened. One second we were screaming in each other’s faces, the next I was flat on my back on her bed and she was topless, and.” David stops. Patrick listens to the whine caught in David’s throat. Patrick finally gives in to the urge to touch himself. David hooks his chin over Patrick’s shoulder and clearly watches as Patrick starts to touch his own dick, light and tentative. 

“We didn’t talk much, after we started. The fight was over, I think. But maybe not, because she bit me pretty hard and I—I bit her too. I left this mark on her thigh that she bitched about for weeks because she couldn’t wear anything too short until it had faded a little more.” David’s smile feels content, less anxious. 

“Did you guys have sex?” Patrick asks. He squeezes the base of his dick in anticipation for the answer. 

“Are you asking if I fucked her?” David asks, voice low and sensual. 

Patrick gasps and nods, almost frantic.

“No,” David says, “not that night. I got her off with my mouth and my fingers and she jerked me off and then snapped at me for getting come on her sheets.”

Patrick laughs suddenly because the image is so, so _them_. It makes something fond bloom in his heart, fitting perfectly alongside the aching arousal filling up his ribs. “Of course.”

“She literally tried to make me wash her sheets.” David shudders, this time in exaggerated disgust. 

Patrick finally twists to look at David. “I love you,” he says.

David smiles. He almost looks shy. “I love you too.” He kisses Patrick once, then nudges him to turn on his side again. “So, the fourth time.”

“The fourth time,” Patrick echoes. His cock twitches and Patrick can’t help but squirm. He not-so-subtly brushes his ass against David’s cock.

David inhales sharply and presses his hips forward in response. He noses against Patrick’s hair and moans softly. “The fourth time, we were drunk again. I was, uh, high. On a variety of things. I don’t even really remember how it happened. I think we were at a party in the Hamptons, maybe? Or we might’ve been in London. I really don’t know.”

“David.” Patrick’s aiming for chiding but it ends up more like a whine. “Please.”

“It was some lavish house, just fucking disgustingly gorgeous and expensive. Alexis had shown up with some guy but I think she found him screwing someone else, in like, a closet? So she found me, because she knew I was gonna be there, and…” David shrugs again. “I really don’t know how it happened. One second she was crying about this guy and the next we were in the spare hot tub, and we were naked and it was so hot, like, _so_ grossly warm.”

Patrick licks his suddenly dry lips, tries to swallow to wet his dry mouth. “And?”

“And I fucked her. She asked me to bend her over the edge of the hot tub and fuck her hard and fast, so I did.” David’s hips roll forward again and when he speaks, his voice shakes. “The water got everywhere, it was so slippery. She just kept asking me to go harder, faster. There were these little bruises on her hips for days.”

“From your hands,” Patrick gasps as he strokes his aching cock.

“Mhm,” David agrees quietly. “I came first and she,” he laughs, just once, “she said _ew, David_ , then got herself off before I could even do anything.”

Patrick wants to laugh too—it’s _very_ funny, it is—but he’s more focused on his cock. David seems to know that and he keeps speaking, a slow and steady stream of stories. His voice is warm in Patrick’s ear but it’s the content that makes his blood burn hotter.

He tells Patrick about the time after one breakup when Alexis flew him to Paris and sucked him off in their first-class cabin, how he had to stay quiet to not disturb the other passengers. He tells Patrick about fucking Alexis in front of floor-to-ceiling windows at his apartment in New York, how anyone could’ve seen, how that was part of the thrill. He tells Patrick about the slow, gentle sex they had when they first moved to Schitt’s Creek and everything was too tender, too raw for it to be anything but bittersweet.

Patrick shudders and fucks into his fist and wishes David was inside him. He manages to say so, and gets a moan from David for his troubles. 

“You’d look good with Alexis,” David murmurs against his ear. He thrusts forward in earnest, grinding against Patrick’s ass. “Kissing her. Not like that stupid party, but seriously kissing her.”

“I’d do that for you. I’d want to.” Patrick gulps for air. He feels almost suffocated by his own desire. Overwhelmed. “I’d do anything. For you, for her.”

David’s breathing hitches. “Yeah?” He asks, and it’s all Patrick can do to helplessly nod. “You’d want to be between us?”

Patrick whimpers and nods more, keeps nodding until David slides a hand around to grip his jaw and keep him still. “David.”

“You want me and my sister to take you apart, Patrick?” David asks, because he somehow _knows_ it’s what Patrick needs. 

Patrick goes tense, tipped over the edge just as abruptly as when he’d gotten himself off the night before. He has the wherewithal to cup his hand and catch most of it in his palm. He keeps fucking into the tight circle of his fist, smearing the come along his shaft until he’s buzzing with oversensitivity. He pants and tries to remember how to move but David doesn’t seem concerned, still rutting up against his back. 

“David,” he moans, “let me.”

David doesn’t reply. He only grips Patrick’s hips tighter and thrusts faster, harder against Patrick; David detaches from Patrick’s hip to shove at their clothes. He exposes the small of Patrick’s back, shoves his own pants down to free his cock and then he’s stroking. It’s wet and slick and Patrick can’t see any of it which only makes it hotter. He groans as he feels the wet touch of the tip of David’s dick against his back.

David groans suddenly and his come hits Patrick’s back hot and wet. David shudders through it, quaking against Patrick until he starts to settle. 

They both lie there panting in the aftermath. Eventually, David says, “Don’t move,” and climbs off the bed. Patrick listens to the sink in the bathroom run for a second, and before long David’s returning with a wet washcloth. He startles as David cleans up his back, but obeys when David says, “Give me your hand.”

Once his hand is clean, Patrick smiles. “I still got some on my pants,” he says.

“I know how to get come stains out of clothes, Patrick.” David shakes his head fondly. He leaves again to drop the washcloth in the hamper, but returns soon. He sits on the bed and Patrick turns over, smiling at his husband. “When I realized you’d changed pajama pants, the last thing I was expecting was...this.” He gestures to all of Patrick. 

Patrick’s grin turns a little sheepish. “You don’t mind, though?”

David leans in and kisses Patrick softly at first, then firmer, deeper. Patrick’s panting again by the time David pulls away. “No,” David murmurs, “I don’t mind. I still have…” He trails off, counting under his breath. “I still have at least six more stories I could tell you.”

Patrick groans. “Looking forward to it.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” David teases. 

Patrick kisses the smug grin right off his lips. 


End file.
